


Whiskey and Scents

by Nerdylittleangelenthusiast (Anderseeds)



Series: Supernatural Works [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Frottage, M/M, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Religious Castiel (Supernatural), Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anderseeds/pseuds/Nerdylittleangelenthusiast
Summary: Dean was an alpha, and Castiel was, conveniently, one of the few omegas in existence. He knew from years of exploiting his designation that just a whiff of him was enough to make any alpha discard all common sense, and he didn’t expect Dean to be any different from his past targets. He would deal with him like he had all the others: seduce him, lead him to bed, then shoot him in the head- nothing simpler.Castiel is given the task of dispatching kingpin of the local black market, Dean Winchester. The man isn't at all who Castiel expects him to be.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Works [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068692
Comments: 28
Kudos: 207





	Whiskey and Scents

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic is my first foray into A/B/O! Despite having been in the SPN fandom for years, I've never really read or written a fic featuring A/B/O, and I'm finding myself increasingly interested in the idea.
> 
> Anyway, I've challenged myself to write 30 different Destiel fics in A/B/O, all with varying kinks, scenarios, and AU's. Here's hoping I'll maintain enough drive to do it! Feel free to throw me ideas either here, or on Tumblr at Nerdylittleangelenthusiast.
> 
> Also note: there's a mention of Balthazar/Castiel. They aren't siblings in this fic; they're just part of an organisation together.

Castiel had never been more uncomfortable in his entire life. The tight, black jeans he’d squeezed himself into pinched the crease of his ass and chafed his thighs, and he was even less a fan of his footwear, finding the laced leather boots uncomfortably tight on his calves and the bulky soles awkward to manoeuvre around in. The clothes were tight enough he hadn’t even been able to find somewhere to stow his pistol. He’d had to attach it to a wrist, hidden in the loose sleeve of his leather jacket (he was getting _really_ tired of leather).

His brothers had only seen him briefly as he’d made a discreet exit from their headquarters, but no doubt they were currently laughing themselves silly at his misfortune. Gabriel especially. He might’ve even taken a photo to use as blackmail, knowing the man.

The only upside to this entire ordeal was that the shoes would give him a few extra inches with which to look over the crowds of night clubbers, which would come in handy when tracking down his target. He wouldn’t be wearing this getup at all if not the ridiculous dress code of their night club, so he’d make sure to get in a complaint or two while the man expired.

The man in question was Dean Winchester. Credit card scammer turned drug dealer turned criminal mastermind- by the loose standards of the media, anyway - and now he’d earned himself enough infamy to become Castiel’s current job. Being that his night club doubled as Dean’s home, he wasn’t exactly hard to find; he was just extremely difficult to reach, and thus far, no one had managed it through legitimate means. That was where Castiel came in.

Dean was an alpha, and Castiel was, conveniently, one of the few omegas in existence. He knew from years of exploiting his designation that just a whiff of him was enough to make any alpha discard all common sense, and he didn’t expect Dean to be any different from his past targets. He would deal with him like he had all the others: seduce him, lead him to bed, then shoot him in the head- nothing simpler. A nice, clean kill, then Chuck would give him his cut of the paycheck once he returned with bloodied hands. This time, it’d better be a large cut. No ‘twenty percent’ like his last job.

He considered his work enough of a public service that he didn’t usually concern himself with the money, but the humiliation compelled an uncharacteristic concern. He deserved forty at the very least, maybe even sixty. Then he could buy soundproofing with which to block out Gabriel’s inevitable jeers. He _really_ should have insisted upon a room next to Balthazar instead. At least Anna was on the other side, and she would commiserate, having been put in compromising positions herself for the sake of their work.

As he joined the line leading to the night club, he tucked his jacket tighter around himself in a feeble effort to stave off the frigid night air. With how thin the material of his shirt and his jacket was, it did little to help. Another downside to his outfit: it was freezing, and he was desperately missing his traditional trench coat, shirt, and slacks. They had always kept him warm even on the chilliest of evenings. He ran his hands rapidly up and down his goosepimpled arms, trying not to let his teeth chatter, because he did not want to have to use his omega wiles just to get into the club. If he showed his hand too early, he’d have to wrestle through mobs of Betas and alphas just to reach his target, and he did not have the patience to deal with that tonight.

Luckily, all it took was a glance for the bouncer to permit him entrance. He offered him a flittering smile before he stepped inside, making a beeline for the upper levels of the club. Naomi had emphasised during the briefing that Dean Winchester always remained on the third floor. A VIP floor, but Castiel didn’t expect it to be too difficult to get into, because those kinds of places were always guarded by alphas. And usually of the brutish and feeble-minded variety, which were especially easy to manipulate with one’s pheromones (even Betas could manage it, at times).

The heady smell of sweaty, gyrating bodies and intermingling scents made Castiel’s nostrils itch. People were always liberal with their scent glands in places like this, and that was part of the appeal, but Castiel had always found it unseemly and overwhelming. The sense of smell of an omega was outmatched only by alphas, and while it tended to be a positive experience for alphas, omegas were commonly repelled by it, tending to favour the scents of only those they were attracted to. Which was a little unfair, frankly, but Castiel suspected he would have disliked the clogging smell of carnal activity even if he hadn’t part of his omega makeup.

The addition of music pounding heavy through the air and the stifling heat further increased Castiel’s discomfort. He almost started to miss the outside chill as he hastily pressed his way through the hordes of alpha and Betas, wrinkling his nose whenever he ventured too close to someone’s sweaty, pungent nape. This job couldn’t end soon enough.

He made quick work of the first set of stairs and approached the second one with his jacket hanging loose around his forearms, displaying his scent gland. While he was unable to smell his own scent, he knew from Lucifer that it was something earthy, milky, and just a little sweet, which didn’t sound all that appealing, but the alphas among them smelt it so profoundly that Castiel had to cover his scent and keep to his room at the height of their ruts. Even rut suppressants weren’t enough to completely stifle their desire to breed Castiel.

Two men stood at the landing of the stairs. Both tall, bearded, though only one of them was burly. The other being on the thin side made him no less intimidating though, not with his gaze displaying such clear malice, such a clear desire to inflict harm on anyone who ventured too close. And here Castiel was, stepping right up to him. 

“What a pretty little face you have,” the thin man said, licking slightly elongated canines and looking Castiel up and down. Evidently it was more than just Castiel’s face that interested him. “But I don’t recognise it, and I recognise everyone who comes through here. You’d best explain yourself fast, boy.”

“Calm down, Alistair,” said the other man, his southern accent a pleasant reprieve from Alistair’s high, nasally voice. While Alistair’s scraped its way through your head, his rumbled pleasantly through your ears. “Boy’s probably just lost.” He stepped up to Castiel, frowning down at him. “We get people trying to wander up here all the time. Really should invest in some better signs- you can barely see the ones we currently have up.”

“You’re too soft, Benny,” Alistair said, but he did withdraw to his side of the landing regardless.

Castiel frowned as if confused, glancing up at the signs on the walls. Broad black letters spelled out the words ‘NO ENTRY – VIP ONLY’.

“I’ve never not been allowed on all floors of a night club before,” he said, putting on a petulant, childish display. Something suitable for an omega, since they generally had affluent backgrounds and were used to getting everything they could ever want- _except_ freedom, of course, and Castiel was lucky to have been spared from that gilded cage. “What do I need to do to get into the VIP area?” he asked, expelling just a little of his scent as he spoke and watching Alistair and Benny for their reaction.

They wrinkled their noses simultaneously, blinking as though dazed.

“Uh,” said Benny, articulately.

“I can think of a few things,” said Alistair with an unpleasant smile, which earned him a hard elbowing from Benny.

“Don’t you start,” Benny warned, voice low and proprietorial. He was starting to smell citrusy, his scent overwhelming that of Alistair’s, which seemed more sour and oily. “What’s an omega doing out and about, anyway?” He cocked an eyebrow at Castiel, but there was warmth and desire in his expression now. “Don’t they usually lock you lot inside? I mean, you’re a kidnapping risk if I’ve ever seen one.”

“What my father knows can’t hurt him,” said Castiel with what he hoped was a sleek smile- he’d never quite gotten a handle on the whole acting thing.

A protective edge wormed its way onto Benny’s face. That was a predictable, perfect response. If an alpha didn’t want to fuck you, they wanted to protect you- often both, though it looked like Alistair was only being subject to one of those, so Castiel was going to have to watch his back around him.

“He should have instilled a better sense of self-preservation in you,” said Benny with a frown. “You should go home.”

“But I’m safe with you guys, right?” asked Castiel, scenting some more and fluttering his eyelashes. His cheeks were warming from the embarrassment of having to do this, but he was sure it only enchanted his appearance. “I just wanna have a few drinks and party upstairs, then I’ll go home, promise.”

Benny glanced at Alistair, inquisitive, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Castiel for the past several minutes.

“The boss does have a thing for black haired beauties,” said Alistair. He licked his teeth again, the action uncomfortably lurid. “I bet he wouldn’t mind you going upstairs, and once he’s done…”

“We could have a drink, once you knock off,” Castiel offered, winking. Probably not in an attractive way, but there was so much scent in the air now he doubted either of them cared.

To seal the deal, he lightly trailed his fingers along one of Benny’s arms. Within an instant, the man’s facial capillaries had filled out and his pupils had blown so wide that there was not a hint of the iris visible. Castiel made a conscious effort not to look down, because he knew exactly what he would see if he did, and this entire situation was embarrassing enough without openly gaping at someone’s erection.

“A drink after, huh?” Benny swallowed thickly and curled an arm around his waist, guiding him into the stairway. “Let’s let the boss get a look at you, then. He does like the occasional surprise visit, and he’s long due for one.”

“I’ll buy the drinks,” Alistair called from the bottom of the stairs, which was the kind of enthusiasm that suggested he was planning to drug Castiel’s drink. Good thing Castiel intended to flee through a window the moment the job had been completed.

The top floor was far more sparsely occupied than Castiel had expected, with most occupants congregating around a large, lavish lounge at the far back of the room. Some were identifiable as employees by their simple dress and the guns hanging from their waists; others were scantily clad and dancing on a platform, clearly entertainment. Tonight’s theme must have been religion, because several of the women on stage were wearing outfits that displayed horns, wings and halos. They were – in Castiel’s opinion – incredibly gaudy, though not as gaudy as the lurid photographs hanging on the walls, which displayed women and men in various states of undress and slathered in leather. It was truly a wonder the things some men found attractive.

He idly thumbed the crucifix on his sternum as took in his surroundings. By this point in his life, he understood growing up religious had more to do with control than genuine faith on Chuck's part, but he was still a _somewhat_ pious man, and no matter his job, no matter how ill-fitting its presence was, he never took his cross off. Right now, it was trapped beneath his tight black shirt, an unidentifiable bulge. He didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing it and questioning the presence of a religious man in such a place. 

The room was only a fraction of the size of the ones below, allowing space for the living quarters beyond. As Benny guided him through it, his presence drew both curious and uneasy glances, the latter often accompanied by a warning touch to a weapon. The fact so many of Dean’s goons had modern automatic guns was surprising; anything that hadn’t been made before nineteen eighty-six was exceptionally hard to get one’s hands on, but it looked like Dean had his contacts. Lucky him, because even Chuck’s well-funded organisation had a hard time getting their hands on anything that hadn’t been made in the previous century.

The sea of women parted to let him and Benny through to the lounge. Seated in the middle of it, his long legs resting on the edge of the platform, was Dean Winchester. The black and white photos he’d been given during briefing really hadn’t done the man justice. He’d a warm complexion, olive green eyes, neatly combed brown hair and broad shoulders- it was no wonder he was regarded as a dreamboat in the criminal world, though Castiel had never been one to be distracted by good looks. Even if the good looks in question were _very_ good indeed.

“Got a visitor for you here,” announced Benny, clapping a hand over Castiel’s shoulder. “This is- ah. What was your name again?”

“Castiel,” he said, without thinking, and cursed himself after. Maybe he was a little more taken with the man’s good looks than he thought, because it was rare he stumbled on a fake name.

“Castiel,” said Dean appraisingly, smiling with teeth. It was a pleasant smile. “Pretty name for a pretty face- and a pretty smell. Not every day I get an omega visiting. Why’re you here?”

Castiel put on a shy sort of smile. “I always go into VIP sections of clubs. I wanted to see this one too.”

“So, you’re a brat who wormed his way in?” said Dean, but he sounded good natured about it. “Lucky for you, I’m in the mood for letting a pretty omega get their way.” Turning his attention back to Benny, he gestured to the stairs. “Thanks for the gift, man. I’ll take him from here. You grab yourself a drink or something before you head back to the weasel.”

Benny snorted. “Don’t let Alistair hear you calling him that.”

“Oh, he’s _definitely_ already heard me, but he can do shit all about it,” said Dean, laughing. “Wouldn’t mind if it caught on as a nickname, so feel free to take it from me.”

“Nah,” said Benny, turning to take his leave. “I like not waking up with a knife against my ballsack. You take care, friend.”

“You too, Benny.”

Once alone, Dean gestured Castiel closer, and Castiel obligingly lowered himself to Dean’s side. The throng of women had dispersed enough to provide them some privacy.

“You want a drink?” asked Dean, reaching for a selection of bottles to the right of him and taking up two tumbler glasses. He threw some ice into one of the glasses, looking inquisitively to Castiel. “Wine? Whiskey? Vodka? I got just about everything here.”

Having spent much of his life abstaining from alcohol for religious reasons (a rule Chuck, notably, had never applied to himself), Castiel hadn’t any desire for a drink. The alcohol would affect him more than most; lower his inhibitions, make him more liable to make a mistake. But abstinence didn’t fit into the image of a rebellious omega who liked to worm their way into clubs, so he pointed to the nearest bottle of wine and hoped it wouldn’t be too strong.

“You never introduced yourself,” he pointed out, and Dean cocked his eyebrows in surprise.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?” asked Castiel, feigning innocence.

“Well, yeah. I do own the place,” said Dean, pouring a generous amount of wine into the iceless tumbler and extending it to Castiel. Though the sour smell it gave off was repellent, Castiel still took it. “Names Dean Winchester. This is one of about… five locations I own.”

‘Locations’. Castiel was sure the lack of specification meant he owned a few miscellaneous places as fronts for criminal activity.

“That’s impressive,” he said, trying to sound as enthralled as possible. “So, you run a clubbing business?”

Dean’s smile broadened. “Something like that.” He filled his own glass with- whiskey? Castiel wasn’t sure. But whatever he poured, he filled the glass almost to capacity and took an immediate gulp of it. “Night clubs _are_ ideal. No better place to host underground sales.”

“Sales?” asked Castiel, tipping his head in a show of curiosity.

“You know, of drugs and guns and shit. Shit you can’t sell in the daylight.”

Castiel stared at him, startled by this brazen announcement. His targets were usually far coyer than this. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“Sweetheart, we’re surrounded by people holding guns,” said Dean, snorting. “You didn’t think there was something illicit going on here? You really ought to be more careful about places you go barrelling into.”

“I’m…” Castiel fought to accommodate this unexpected twist. “I’m capable of looking after myself. My father has-“

“Lots of money, I’m sure.” Dean took another gulp of his drink. “I’m just telling you in case you decide you want to leave. I’m not gonna stop you. You’re free to go back to your father and forget we ever met.”

Another unexpected twist. Never had one of his targets expressed a willingness to let him leave. They’d all been too eager to get into his trousers, to rip them open and plunder everything an omega had to offer, but thought Dean was visibly affected by him – he could see the flush in his face and the eagerness in his eyes – he was holding it together remarkably well, and he seemed to be doing so for the sake of Castiel’s comfort.

Castiel frowned and glanced down at his knees, then back up at Dean. “You’re a strange alpha.”

“And you’re a strange omega,” said Dean. “We’d make quite the couple- I mean, if you wanted to spend the night.”

“You’re asking me?”

“Seems only polite.”

When Castiel inhaled, he caught the faint, alluring scent of spice and metal, and it was growing thicker with each passing moment. “Oh,” he said, helplessly, bewildered by this entire situation; especially bewildered by the scent he was inhaling being neither overwhelming, nor unpleasant. Dean seemed a nice man, his criminal record aside – but did it really take this little for him to be wooed by an alpha? How embarrassing. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was the one trying to seduce Dean, not the other way around.

“You alright?” asked Dean, eyebrows furrowed, and it was frustrating how that show of concern made the intensity of his scent spike.

“I just wouldn’t expect a self-identified criminal to be a decent person,” said Castiel.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, my thing is mostly drugs and black-market items, and why are drugs and shit illegal anyway? I mean, seems kind of ridiculous when people can walk into the nearest Walmart an buy a gun, right?”

“So, you’re saying you run a _nice_ drug trafficking organisation?” asked Castiel, unable to eradicate the wry tone of his voice.

“Not even a little,” said Dean with a laugh. “But hey, at least I don’t kill people for a living, right?”

For all of a moment, Castiel was disquieted- then he caught himself. “What are the guns for, then?” he asked, glancing pointedly over at a thick-set man wielding an automatic rifle.

“Protection,” said Dean, shrugging. “Like I said, if any of this makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. I mean, I’d love it if you did; you seem an interesting guy, and pretty as a peach, but I’m not one to force people to keep me company. Not my style.”

“You think I’m interesting?” asked Castiel, bemused.

“A rebellious omega shows up on my doorstep- why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean gulped down another mouthful of his drink, glancing at Castiel’s untouched wine, which prompted Castiel to take a tentative sip of it. The strength of the alcohol was far too much for him; just awful, but he swallowed it down with as much visible pleasure as he could muster.

“I have to admit,” said Castiel, giving his bottom lip a deliberate lick. Dean gaze followed the journey of his tongue. “I’m curious about you too, but I expect you get that a lot, being in the kind of work that you are.”

“Less than you might think,” said Dean. “Not exactly a social job, to be honest, so I appreciate the interest.”

He was terribly charming. Charming, handsome, kind, and the smell of him was so thick in the air now that Castiel had to take slow breaths to try to avoid the urge to fill his lungs. This was promising to be a difficult job.

His own scent was flowing out of its own accord now, and Dean didn’t refrain from leaning closer and inhaling it, his eyelashes fluttering in appreciation. The sight might not have been intended as flirtatious, but it was enough for Castiel that his cheeks filled with colour and he diverted his eyes. This was somehow more embarrassing than the numerous targets who’d simply started groping and kissing him the moment he was within reach.

With a hand he couldn’t quite stop from trembling, he set his glass aside. Some of the wine spilt onto a cushion and neither of them paid it any mind. All that worry for the wine, and Dean had ended up doing more to intoxicate him than it ever could have. “Do you want to take this somewhere more private?” he asked, eager to move this along, because he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand.

“Like where?” asked Dean, eyes wide, covetous.

Castiel swallowed. “Like a bedroom,” he offered.

Dean was so eager he didn’t even bother to place his drink down somewhere; just tossed it aside and scooped Castiel into his arms, carrying him with ease across the room and toward a curtained door. Pushing it aside unveiled a hallway that was much more modestly decorated than the room they’d just vacated, and there were so many unmarked doors Castiel couldn’t begin to imagine where they all led.

“Where are we-?” he began, but he was whisked off down a different hallway before he could finish the sentence.

Save for tasteful photos hanging on the walls, the halls they passed through were largely non-descript, and there was little fanfare to announce Dean’s room before they arrived in it, pushing through a door that was just as plain as all the others. The interior of the room, however, was anything but.

Castiel wasn’t one who much cared for pretty décor. But he had to admit, this room was something to behold. It demanded ones appreciation with its intricately decorated furniture, finely panelled floor, plush rugs, and broad windows that were splashed across the ceiling, their mullions expertly placed to send moonlight dancing in patterns to the room below. Castiel was momentarily drawn to the night sky twinkling above, but his attention was just as quickly thrown back to Dean, who dropped both of them rather unceremoniously into his bed and proceeded to crawl under Castiel, moving forward until Castiel’s ass was against his crotch and his legs were forced to slide over Dean’s forearms.

The position made Castiel’s heart thrum madly under his breastbone, red crawling up his neck and into his ears, making his eyes sting from the intensity of it. None this was solely the product of embarrassment- he was aroused too, the front of his jeans tenting as much as they could in the confining fabric. The outline of his miniature pistol pressed hard against his wrist, and it took great effort to jar himself out of his arousal long enough to recall its presence.

This was exactly the position he’d wanted Dean in. He was distracted, vulnerable, and he wouldn’t be able to react before Castiel had the gun out and was popping a bullet into his skull. It would make quite a mess, but this wouldn’t be the first time Castiel had needed to shoot a target while they were actively crawling all over him. But Dean’s face was so gentle and eyes so bright and green and he smelt so, so good, and Castiel couldn’t help hesitating.

Dean’s lips descended to his neck, his hot tongue gliding up his throat and over each bump of his windpipe. Castiel groaned and shivered, tilting up into the contact. They’d only just begun and his head was already buzzing and his vision going hazy around the edges. He knew if he didn’t act soon, he might not have the will to act at all. He had to shoot. He had to do it. He couldn’t let something like _attraction_ get the better of him. This was a man who ran a drug cartel; to ensure it ran smoothly, he’d had to do heinous things, hurt innocent people, and a little kindness from him didn’t invalidate those atrocities. Castiel, too, had done atrocious things, and one day he would face judgement for that- but that day had already come for Dean, and it was going to be at the hands of Castiel. He had to do it. He had to do it. This was what he’d been _born_ to do.

He discreetly unlatched his pistol from his wrist, curling his hand around the skin-warm handle of his gun and moving to pull it out. The barrel flew toward Dean, and Dean simply caught his wrist, squeezing it hard enough that Castiel was forced to release his grip. The gun dropped with a dull thud onto the bed sheets.

Castiel stared up at him, wide-eyed with shock.

Dean’s smile was still firmly in place.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to do anything to you.” He released Castiel’s hand to take the gun, tossing it over the side of the bed. The thump of it hitting the floorboards slammed through Castiel’s nerves. “Just, you know. Killing me would have really ruined the moment.”

“Did you know?” asked Castiel, voice rasping.

“You’re far from the first pretty face that has tried to assassinate me. You are the one who got the closest, though, I’ll give you that.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth and murmuring his next words against Castiel’s lips. “You’re the most alluring omega I’ve ever smelt. I really hope this whole- murder attempt isn’t going to mean an end to my chances with you.”

The wide-eyed look fell away in favour of one of bewilderment. “I try to kill you, and _that’s_ your response?”

“Hey, you hesitated.” Dean drew up enough to grin down at him. “My assassins don’t usually hesitate, so it makes me feel like I’ve got a chance of this going somewhere pleasant.”

“This is absurd.”

“I appreciate that in my line of work.”

“And what will you do if I turn you down?” asked Castiel, a touch nervous. He’d never been caught red-handed like this before, and all Dean had to do to end him was sweep the gun into his hand and pop a bullet into Castiel’s head instead.

“I doubt you’ll want to do that,” said Dean, then he quickly added: “Not because I’m going to do anything you to if you do, but because I have an offer.”

Castiel’s expression could not have been more incredulous. “An offer,” he repeated. “For _your assassin_.”

“My very pretty assassin,” said Dean in a rumble, running his hands lazily up Castiel’s sides. Soft thought the contact was, it was still enough to elicit a strangled little groan from Castiel. “And sensitive, apparently.”

“I've- I've never had occasion for…” The compromising position they were in made it difficult to admit he was a virgin. His position was vulnerable enough without unveiling that he had no sexual experience to speak of; nothing except what he and Balthazar had done as teens, anyway, and that’d been little more than fumbling hand jobs and kissing in the communal shower. Growing up religious had always made those sort of exploits difficult; an Omega saving themselves for their True Mate had been highly empathised, and he'd simply never found the opportunity, nor someone he was really attracted to once he'd started to ease up on his celibacy as an adult - until now.

Realisation widened Dean’s eyes. “You haven’t done this before?”

Castiel pressed his mouth into a thin line, saying nothing. 

“Oh, now I _really_ need to have you.” He briefly closed his teeth over his bottom lip before continuing. “Look, if I have you escorted out of this building, you aren’t getting back in here. No one who is escorted off these premises gets back in.”

Castiel knew that well enough. It’d been a significant part of the briefing.

“But I’ll let you in for an hour or two every week,” Dean pressed on. “Just you, me, this room, and if you can kill me despite me being prepared for it, then you’ve earned that.” Another one of his charming, toothy smiles, and damn it, if it didn’t make Castiel’s heart beat that little bit faster. “What do you say?”

Castiel had been propositioned many, _many_ times in his life, and this was by far the strangest circumstances under which he’d received one. Which was saying a lot, because his work inevitably led to some strange propositions.

“You’re insane,” he deadpanned, and Dean snorted.

“The same could be said about you, sweetheart.” Dean traced his fingers over the hollows of Castiel’s ribs and Castiel made a distinctly undignified sound, something like a squeal, and squirmed in his grip. His glare didn’t deter Dean from gently stimulating him, the ass. “Come on, what’s the downside?”

Admittedly, Castiel was hard pressed to think of one, especially with Dean’s fingers now venturing up his chest, thumbs grazing over his sensitive nipples until they pebbled. If just his hands felt this good, he could only imagine how amazing his cock and knot would feel.

“Results are expected _tonight_ , for one thing,” said Castiel, shakily. “If I let this drag on too long, I could be penalised, lose my status.”

“Have a little faith in your abilities,” said Dean. “You’ve gotten this far. No one else can say that.”

“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of, considering ‘this far’ is your bed.” His voice lost volume as Dean’s large, warm hands ventured back down his body, dipping into every available crevice and digging his fingers into places Castiel hadn’t even known were sensitive. Oh, it was getting harder and harder to think straight, his cock swelling in his trousers and his skin alight with sensitivity. “Does,” he began, struggling to keep his voice intelligible. “Does the first hour start now?”

Dean laughed. “Sure, it can start now.”

To Castiel’s credit, he did manage to remember the purpose of this union for exactly fifteen minutes before Dean eradicated his every thought with a well-placed bite to his scent gland. It wasn’t deep enough to mark him as a mate, but it was enough that it lit up his every nerve and sent his head swimming and buzzing, leaving nothing audible but the pound of his own blood in his ears.

When Dean managed to peel away his trousers, tugging them off along with his boots, he let his legs fall apart to display his slick-shiny thighs, letting Dean see just how ready he was to be fucked, to be knotted. Neither Dean’s identity, nor the fact Castiel was new to this seemed important anymore, because Dean’s dick was so close and it was so large, heavy, and red, with a growing knot Castiel knew would fill him so much better than the toys he periodically played with through his heats. But Dean didn’t take him. He instead curled a fist around their cocks – his was so much larger than Castiel’s – and began to rut them together.

“Another time,” he murmured, eyes dark with arousal. “Gotta keep you in a little suspense if I want this to last.”

Embarrassingly, Castiel whined.

Dean applied practised strokes to their cocks, rocking them together with the sort of concentration completely beyond Castiel right now. He was pinned down by his need, barely able to function, to participate, and if he’d known intimacy could feel _this_ good he sure would have tried it sooner. Dean knew just where to put his fingers, when to dip down to cup his small, smooth sac and when to trace the veins on his cock. He was so damn good at this that Castiel was barely able to hold a conscious thought.

“That’s it, Cas,” Dean rumbled, voice barely breaking through the haze of pleasure. He gave their cocks a hard-enough squeeze that Castiel felt it in his very toes. “Come for me.”

Had he the capacity to speak, he would have pointed out that being an omega didn’t endow him with the ability to come on demand, but embarrassingly, it was only two strokes later that he ended up spilling into Dean’s fist. He felt his mouth stretch open and his vocal cords tremor, but the sound he made was lost in the waves of euphoria that rolled over him. His back arched and his fingers tore into skin and fabric, breaking something- maybe both, and he didn’t notice that either because he couldn’t perceive anything over the bliss that had enveloped his every sense. It seemed an eternity before it started to subside.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Castiel sunk back into the sheets and lay staring up at the ceiling while his disorientation started to recede. How long it took for him to recover, he wasn’t sure, but when he finally had enough strength to lower his eyes to Dean, he was met with Dean flushed and grinning and still in the process of chasing his own finish. Apparently just holding Castiel’s satiated gaze was enough to get him off, because within a few more strokes he was hunching over and tearing his fingers into the sheets by Castiel’s shoulder and spilling hot, sticky strings of come across the hollows of Castiel’s hips. His eyelids fluttered and his form trembled. A bead of sweat trailed down from his left temple, journeying over a cheekbone to drip off his chin and soak into the sparse hairs at the base of Castiel’s cock. This would have been an ideal time to make a grab for the gun, but Castiel was fixated on Dean’s face, drinking him in.

He was beautiful.

And yet, it was Dean who leaned in, who said-

“You’re beautiful.”

It was spoken with such genuine affection that Castiel’s heart seized in his chest. He ran a hand down his sweaty face as the enormity of this all breached the fog of completion, settling in his mind like an anvil.

He liked this man. Against all rationality, he liked him, and he only had himself to blame for not pulling away, for letting himself get caught up in Dean’s web.

“If this is part of your plan to evade death,” he murmured, tilting his head back with a sigh. “It’s working. But I’m still going to try.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” said Dean. He reached past Castiel, retrieving tissues from the bedside table. “But you’re not the only one with an end goal here.”

“Which is?” said Castiel, and he was sure it was going to be something equally as ridiculous as everything else Dean had approached him with.

Bunching up a handful of tissues, Dean cleaned Castiel’s navel with slow, gentle swipes. “By the end of this, I’m going to make you my omega.”

This seemed a natural progression after all the other insane announcements Dean had made, so Castiel was only a little surprised. “You want to keep your assassin as your omega. Of course you do.” With his skin now as clean as it was going to get, he started to pull his underwear back into place. “You are the most bewildering man I’ve ever met.”

“But it’s sort of charming, right?” asked Dean with a winning smile.

“No,” Castiel lied, but he could tell by Dean’s face that he saw through it. He made an exasperated noise as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and looked fleetingly to the gun. Before he could even think to pick it up, Dean had retrieved it, freed the magazine, and thrown the magazine to the other side of the room. He handed Castiel the now useless weapon.

“Still got some time before the hour is up.” Dean rose from the bed and started doing up his trousers, looking Castiel up and down all the while. “I could put on Netflix.”

Castiel sighed and retrieved his pants. “I’d rather have you tell me about yourself.”

“Huh. Really?” Dean sounded just as excited as surprised; his eyes were lit up.

“We just got off together. I should know a little more about you. It’s only proper.” At least, that was the excuse Castiel was telling himself. He pressed a sigh through the gaps of his teeth. “Don’t make me regret it. Tell me about yourself.”

So Dean did, and Castiel returned to headquarters that night with the knowledge Dean was a fan of Dr. Sexy, a capable mechanic, a big brother, and far better company than he had any right to be. All the same, Castiel would try to dispatch him. He would try. Though how much effort he would put behind his attempts remained to be seen.


End file.
